One too many
by Arianka
Summary: Glorfindel learns the way life goes in Rivendell in time of peace. Set in the beginning of the Third Age. Crack with LOTS of fluff.


Another little story from Rivendell, this time happy crackfic with LOTS of fluff. As always, it's a translation of my Polish story.

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**One too many**

During the war with Sauron Rivendell was the last realm of the elves, a place to regroup and gather strength. After the victory over a century ago, the hidden valley became home to many who decided to stay in the Middle-Earth. A place full of peace and quiet...

Or it had been so.

"Yes, I'm coming," called Elrond, never stopping walking around his office. He came closer to Glorfindel sitting in an armchair. "Hold him for a moment, would you?" Without waiting for an answer, he placed a weeping bundle on his friend's knees. Another, similar crying bundle Glorfindel already had in his arms.

"Yeah, sure," murmured the golden-haired elf, looking after his lord with crossed brows. He sighed in resignation and looked down at two little creatures. The one lying on his knees hushed, surprised by the change of position, and kept staring at Glorfindel with gray eyes.

"Seriously, Turgon?" muttered Glorfindel under his breath. "I went through Halcaraxe with you, I fought with Balrog, only to babysit children of your great grandson?"

The child on his knees recovered from his astonishment and started weeping again. His brother managed to untangle his tiny hand from the blanket and grabbed one of Glorfindel's braids.

"Elladan, no... Elrohir? Eh, who cares," Glorfindel gave up.

During the last hour they had exchanged the twins with Elrond several times and Glorfindel got lost at some point, which one he was holding. Their fair long shirts didn't help at all. The elf adjusted the child in his arms so he could hold him in one hand; he wanted his other one to be free in case the little one on his knees would move.

Which was exactly what he did, but Glorfindel's hand on his belly kept him safely on the elf's knees. The other child placed in his mouth the braid he was holding and started sucking it.

"I didn't agree to that, Mandos." Glorfindel shook his head in hopes he would free his hair.

"Having a problem, Glorfindel?" asked politely Lindir standing at the doorstep. His smile made Glorfindel realize how ridiculous he must have looked.

"I need a hand, I'm not an octopus," he hissed and leaned forward, pulled by his braid. The second child was still kicking and wriggling, so Glorfindel didn't dare to remove his hand and free himself.

"Our Balrog Slayer can't handle the twins?" Lindir chuckled, but took pity over Glorfindel and grabbed the boy from his knees.

"I think I prefer a Balrog, it was only one at a time," stated the freed elf and untangled his hair from the child's mouth. "And you could kill it."

"You should get used to that." Lindir lifted the boy he was holding up to his face.

"That there are two of them?" Glorfindel shook his head. "Maybe in my next reincarnation," he scoffed. "But knowing my luck, one of Elrond's children will end up having a whole bunch of offspring."

"Which one are you, hmm?" Lindir asked the boy and suddenly was rewarded with a toothless smile. Glorfindel noted with satisfaction, that the minstrel too had problems with telling the twins apart.

"Check on his collar," he advised happily. He had seen the monograms on the shirts, which made him realize again that Celebrian had a twisted sense of humor sometimes. Double E letters were embroidered on the left sides of collars. Elrohir Elrondion, Elladan Elrondion... The size of the outfits excluded Elrond from possibilities. Anyway, one of the twins was currently smiling at Lindir, the other gave up chewing Glorfindel's braid and chose his own tiny hand. Glorfindel really hoped at least their parents could tell them apart.

Lindir ignored him and started singing nursery rhymes, some of them made up while he was singing. The child in his arms forgot about teeth eruption and babbled happily. _Elladan, probably, _ thought Glorfindel, though he stated that basing only on the child's behavior in the last days. It would mean it was Elrohir currently leaving his hand to wet Glorfindel's tunic. His movements were less and less energetic, until he fell asleep.

"Well, Glorfindel?" asked Lindir quietly, as the boy in his arms too got tired and fell asleep, wetting his arm. "Wasn't that bad."

"Mhhhhm, this time." The golden-haired elf wasn't quite so optimistic. _How come I ended like this?_

"We're learning," Lindir laughed. "And maybe someday we won't mistake one for another."

Glorfindel glared heavily at him.

"Just wait till they start walking."


End file.
